Page 38 of Scourge of the Shores
The Eastern Campaign
The Drunken Sailor , the sole tavern on Rogue’s Isle, brimmed with pirates and their love of rum.
Robert’s father had claimed a table in the corner, where Robert sat with the Pirate Kings.
A chair was empty for Damien, lost in the battle with Cain.
They each cradled a rum, but none dared drink too much.
Somber expressions stared back at Robert until he broke the silence at their table.
“Damien was a good man, a true captain, an excellent Pirate King. We owe him our lives from our battle with the sea dragon.”
Hagen raised his mug. “It could have been any one of us. To Damien!”
“To Damien,” they returned in unison and sipped in his honor.
The rest of the tavern’s patrons turned their attention to the table hosting pirate royalty. “To the Pirate King Damien,” they repeated.
Robert nodded, acknowledging the patrons, his eyes dark and grim.
He stood and addressed the whole tavern.
His voice boomed across the way; it was time to tell the tale.
“We’ll sing his name in the shanties and tell stories of how the Pirate Kings defeated a sea demon.
Damien’s dance with Tophet won’t be in vain. "
Robert clenched his fist. "The spike from the sea dragon’s mane is proof of victory but also a grim reminder of the price paid in blood.”
The patrons piped up. “The spike on Storm Rider ’s mast is that of a sea dragon’s mane?” Their rum-red eyes grew wide.
“Aye, as real as you and me,” Robert said with a nod.
Jaws dropped, and word spread that night that Captain Jaymes, the Pirate King of the North Sea, had defeated a sea dragon with the proof bolted to his ship. Whispers flooded Rogue’s Isle: what prophecy would the relic bring? Or was it an old sea tale, a myth, a prophecy never to be?
As night fell, the crews gathered around a blazing fire on Rogue’s Isle, their voices rising in mournful song.
“Oh, gather 'round ye sailors bold, and hear this tale we sing,
Of the sea dragon Cain and “The Ruthless” Jaymes, Pirate King,
With cannon fire and blades in hand, fought ‘neath a stormy sky,
Victory was won that day, when Cain the beast did die.”
Blackwood and Rosa glared at Robert.
Blackwood drummed his fingers against his mug, his face green with jealousy, his knuckles white. Rosa took a long pull of rum, letting the silence hang before muttering, “Enjoy yer moment, Jaymes.”
Robert met their stares, holding them just long enough to make a silent promise: It would be more than a moment.
Rosa’s lips twitched. He wouldn’t challenge Robert here, not now. But the fire in his eyes said it wasn’t over.
Robert dismissed them. The spike was his, not theirs. He had proof of the kill, not them.
But when he thought about it, the relic wasn’t his, though it fell on his deck.
The truth clawed at his gut like a beast refusing to stay buried.
Danna Chadwick had won the day, not Robert Jaymes.
Yet here they were, singing his name, raising their cups in his honor, to a man who had not slain the dragon himself.
And he let them. He had to. It was the way of kings.
No one knew of Danna and Chadwick Island; she would’ve preferred it that way—leave her family name live on in legend.
He gulped, his mind suddenly whirling with thoughts and memories, like a storm raging inside.
He ached to return to her, to win her heart once again, but as he peered at the overgrown mound of his father’s final resting place, his duty to the legacy of the Jaymes name weighed heavily on his shoulders and clouded his thoughts.
The crews settled down as Garrick’s eyes flickered between Robert and Rosa. Finally, Garrick approached Robert and interrupted his musings about Danna and his father.
“Captain Jaymes.” Garrick exhaled as if expelling any doubt. “I swear me fleet to ye.” He removed his hat and bowed low. “In memory of Damien.”
Garrick rose from his bow, loyalty gleaming in his eyes. “And ‘cause of the sign—the sea dragon’s spike on yer ship. It’s a prophecy foretelling of yer legacy. Ye’ve shown strength, courage, and leadership. I stand with ye. I submit to yer will.”
A Pirate King swearing fealty to another was not a decision made lightly, and it would not go unnoticed by the others.
Robert studied him, weighing the moment. Garrick had never bowed to any man. Not to his father, not to Rosa’s father. Yet here he was, offering his loyalty. The spike on Storm Rider’s hull had more power than he had realized.
“I honor your submission, Captain Garrick,” Robert said, his gut twisting at the weight of Danna’s sacrifice. It had cost her almost everything, and he was reaping the benefits.
Before he could respond, Hagen stepped forward. Holcomb followed. Adams wasn’t far behind. One by one, their hats came off. One by one, they bowed. The spike on Storm Rider’s mast glistened through the tavern window—proof, power, prophecy, legacy. Everything that his father wanted.
“The sea dragon’s a mystical beast. There’s always a prophecy with their relics,” Hagen said. “I wanna be on the right side of it.”
Keeping his hat on, Robert dipped his chin to acknowledge their vows. “We’ll honor Damien’s memory by uniting our pirate factions, and together, we’ll be an unstoppable force.“
Garrick nodded. "We’ll follow ye, Captain Jaymes. To the ends of the world if need be."
Hagen, Holcomb, and Adams raised their mugs full of rum. “Aye, Captain Jaymes!”
Late into the night, Cooper and Vance approached Robert with the proposition to submit their fleets to him as well.
Robert could almost feel his father’s spirit beside him, pride written in his phantom smile.
He had succeeded in furthering his father’s plan, consolidating ten pirate kings into three: himself, Rosa, and Blackwood.
He just needed Rosa and Blackwood to submit, but that would be a fight for another day.
Blackwood almost always followed Rosa, and after Robert shot Rosa and stopped his attack, he knew Rosa might never submit.
When the rest passed out drunk or with their wenches, Robert left The Drunken Sailor . He stood at the pier, gazing at his father’s magnificent ship and the massive spike tied to the mast. The thought of Danna and the pull on his heart remained ever-present, dulling his moment of accomplishment.
The wind tugged at his coat. He remembered Danna’s fingers, steady on the cannon’s rigging.
He hadn’t heard the blast. Only remembered the way her voice cracked when she roared.
The spike glistened in the moonlight—a legacy he didn’t deserve.
It was no wonder Rosa’s whisper clung to him like sea mist: “The dragon’s spike won’t be yers forever, Jaymes. ”
But it wasn’t his. It was hers. She was the rightful heir of prophecy.
Wasn’t she? She’d slain Cain, but the spike fell on his deck.
Did it mean she was part of the prophecy, if there was one?
Myth said the magic was tied to the relic, not necessarily the slaying.
Maybe it meant the prophecy tied them together?
Maybe he wasn’t meant to stay on the island, but she was meant to come with him and reclaim her family’s kingship on the seas: Jaymes and Chadwick, together, the sole Pirate King of the North Sea.
He grinned, imagining his Sea Queen next to him, claiming the waves with him. He boarded his ship, collapsed into his Captain’s bed, and dreamed of her moonflower scent on the breeze.
* * *
The lap of water against Storm Rider ’s hull coaxed Robert awake in his captain’s bed the following day. His chest felt hollow.
His hand grazed the empty space beside him. There was only one woman he’d ever invite into his bed. No other woman would ever suffice. He didn’t want to wait until the end of his piracy to return.
He had fought the first fight first: to keep Danna and her island safe. Now, it was time to fight the second fight: to make her his.
He knew his next move.
He exited the captain’s quarters and found Storm Rider ready to sail under Frank’s firm routine.
“Where to, Captain?” Frank asked.
Robert took a long breath, letting the salty air fill his lungs. His father’s ghost whispered of glory in one ear. Danna’s whisper was softer, but it rang clear in the other.
He lifted his chin. “East.”
Frank raised a brow. “The island’s west, Captain.”
“East, Quartermaster,” Robert said again, ascending to the helm.
Frank smiled and shook his head. “Aye, Captain. Never figured ye for the patient type.”
“I’m not,” Robert said with a grin. He wasn’t sure how long it’d take, but it was either Danna or Tophet.
The clack of the anchor against the hull and bloated sails pulled the ship out of port. Robert grasped the wheel as his crew hopped to their duties. Robert set his sights on the horizon.
“The worthy man from the sea,” Robert echoed Ervin’s prophecy with a whisper. He smirked. Worthy men didn’t leave behind what they wanted most.
But kings did. Because kings always fight for their crown.